From Black to White
by Nova Mirage
Summary: Despised by the rest of the kingdom, the only thing that Queen Isabel can rely on is her beauty. But when someone steals that from her... The only solution is to do whatever is necessary to earn back her title as the fairest of them all, even if that means painting the petals of a white flower black. Only, things don't go according to plan. (AU- Warning: character death later on)
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything that I don't own. (A.K.A. The 39 Clues or anything else that belongs to another person(s)/company.)**

* * *

Isabel had been in her powder room, applying a bit of rouge and the likes, as she did almost every morning. But, as her past mirror had shattered due to an incompetent servant dropping the looking-glass whilst attempting to polish it, the girl had a different mirror than usual. Isabel didn't know a great deal about the mirror, other than a smidge about its past. The mirror had once belonged to one of the most beautiful queens the land had ever beheld. Upon her recent passing, the mirror was given to Isabel's family. (The queen's husband could not bear for it to reside in his castle now that his spouse had parted from the world of the living. The other nobles had found this sweet, as the husband still loved his wife after her death, with his heart-broken and hurting worse when reminded of her. Isabel found it rather pathetic.)

Isabel had been more than pleased to learn that the mirror would be given to her. After all, it was lovely. The filigree along the frame of the mirror was delicate and had an air of refinement fit for royalty, but at the same time had an almost powerful aura. The glass was the smoothest and clearest she'd seen yet, which provided a crisp image of her when she gazed into it. It was superb, and Isabel had been elated upon her first glance at the silvery surface which reflected her so perfectly.

That was, until it talked back to her.

While Isabel had dusted on a bit of coloring to her cheeks, she had unconsciously began murmuring things to herself. Her self-discussion was borderline rambling, but she refused to acknowledge that. The topic of her mutterings shifted about from how she detested the season (spring was always undecided with its weather. Not to mention the yellow powder that always managed to stick to her beautiful skirts), to the next person her parents were planning to eliminate on their way to climbing up the scale of power, and most importantly, how irking her betrothed was.

Of course, she had not been allowed to select her going-to-be husband; that would have been scandalous and unfitting for one of her stature and position. It was an arranged marriage, and Vikram was not her ideal spouse. She had to admit that he was quite dashing, and did have a large fortune that would travel with him into their marriage, but she could not help but to be unsatisfied. While his exterior was charming and gentlemanly, she was almost positive of what lay beneath. She wasn't naïve, after all. Just by looking at him, she knew that Vikram was a rather unpleasant fellow, and would undoubtedly have affairs with every lady who caught his eye. Isabel suspected that he would be a cruel ruler, not unlike his father, and favor the rich over the poor. Even though she agreed that the poor were inferior, Isabel refrained from underestimating them. Though they were far below her and the rest of the nobles, their numbers were far greater. She was well schooled in history, and knew from past events that plebeians had risen up against their superiors before and conquered them, slaying the current royals in the process.

She lightly touched her neck, grimacing slightly at the thought of being executed. In public, no less, where peasants had been killed and would watch gleefully as she was slaughtered before their eyes.

That was when the mirror spoke.

"Oh, Isabel, stop worrying yourself with those ridiculous fantasies of yours. You will give yourself wrinkles, and neither of us wants your beauty to be marred."

Isabel retained a calm façade, but was actually quite startled. She stared at the looking-glass, not entirely sure how to respond.

"Now, Isabel, you know that staring is impolite. Why are you so surprised? Is this the first time your reflection had talked to you?" asked the reflection, a smirk gracing her pretty features.

Said girl blinked and averted her gaze for a moment, still quite bewildered at the scenario that was playing out.

"On the subject of politeness, you are not being courteous yourself. It is quite rude to interrupt a person going about their daily routine with no warning. Would you care to explain yourself?"

"I am you, obviously, or at least in a way. I am a representation of yourself, the image of how others see you. I know what goes through your mind, yet you know not what is happening within mine. Ultimately, I am a form of you, but not you. So I cannot interrupt myself, can I?"

"Explain why you are in my mirror."

The reflection raised an eyebrow at Isabel's demand. "I will not respond to that. If you wish to issue a command, you must phrase it differently."

Isabel narrowed her eyes momentarily, but then resumed her neutral expression, as she wished to preserve her smooth skin for as long as possible. "How must I say things for you to obey my wishes?"

The female in the mirror thought for a moment, then gave a small smile. "Talk in rhymes. They have always amused me."


	2. Chapter 1

Eventually, Isabel grew accustomed to her reflection speaking to her. (It happened a lot. Her mirror enjoyed stating its opinion, something Isabel learned early on. She had to admit, though, it was be fairly nice to have around at times.) Although she didn't enjoy conversing in the form of childish rhymes when demanding something of the mirror, she abided by it, as it was the easiest way to get what she desired.

Not too long after she received the mirror, she was married to Vikram. As it turned out, all of her suspicions were true. Truly, though, Isabel did not care. He might have been her husband, but she did not love him in the least. Therefore, his horrific behavior had no significant impact on her. Or so she thought.

Mere months after their marriage, Vikram's presence began having a negative effect on Isabel. While she had never been the kindest individual in the land, her personality rapidly shifted for the worst. Isabel went from being unpleasant on the inside to being cold and conceited. Though her pleasant exterior never changed, it was more a mask now than ever. Her discussions with the mirror became more and more frequent, each more self-concerned than the last.

"Mirror, am I not the most beautiful woman you have ever lay eyes upon? Do I not diminish the resplendence of dawn?"

"Yes, you are indeed pleasant to look at. Your outer splendor is met by none, let alone overcome."

Isabel smiled smugly at this, glancing at her long finger nails that most would die for; she had known the answer, yet she never ceased her constant asking of the question. More than anything, she loved being told just how astonishing she looked.

"However, my lady…"

Her smoldering amber eyes snapped toward the mirror, narrowed slightly and with a dangerous glint in them. This had never happened before. The mirror had never, out of all the times she had asked, continued. It had always been that answer, never changing. Surely, there was no maiden more ravishing than she; the looking glass had just answered her with reassurance of her undeniable loveliness that was insurmountable. The mirror didn't tell falsehoods.

"Your alluring appearance is just that: an appearance, nothing more. While your charming looks are unconquerable, they are only skin deep. There is a maiden that resides in the forest who has a greater inner beauty who is not unsightly herself. The combination of this rivals your exterior radiance," the mirror continued, its voice smooth and clear. It gazed at the queen with an unreadable expression on its face, waiting for the next command

Isabel's face went blank as anger boiled inside of her. Her delicate, elegant fingers curled into fists, an obvious display of her fury. Never before had her beauty been rivaled. It was absolutely unacceptable; something had to be done about it.

* * *

Isabel scrutinized her new appearance in an ordinary hand mirror. Her beautiful dark locks had been replaced by pale tresses that reached had nowhere near the luster of her usual hair. Fair and freckled skin had taken the place of her formerly luxurious, flawless cinnamon-colored skin. Her face shape had morphed from exquisite and defined to rounder and reminiscent of adolescent and childish. Her once amber irises were now an odd, mottled shade of brown and green, which didn't look very pretty. Not to mention, the rest of her facial features had been completely transformed, her nose now being wider, accompanied by her chin become slightly indented in the middle and thicker eyebrows. Her body's mesmerizing curves had been minimized. Even her finger nails and height had been shortened. For the first time in her life, Isabel felt as if she had an ordinary, hideous appearance. It revolted her. But the mirror promised that it was necessary. The commoners didn't have an adoration for their regime, and it was known by the residents of the castle. If Isabel were to reach the one who challenged her appealing looks, it would have to be in her new, atrocious body and simple clothing. But the looking glass reassured her that she would return to her full beauty as soon as she returned to the castle.

With a determined nod, she lifted the hood of her horrendously thin cloak over her head and set off to find _her._

* * *

According to the mirror, the one Isabel was searching for lived outside of the city, in a small cabin in the woods. While Isabel resented the idea of entering such a vile, unsanitary place, it was needed. Luckily, she was riding on a rather regal horse, so her slippers would not be stained with the disgustingness that was the dirt and plants of the forest floor. But as she rode the creature toward her destination, wind whipped about her, pulling her hair into the air and tousling it about. Isabel grimaced, knowing that the brisk breeze would leave her hair tangled and unruly.

After a bit of traveling, she came upon a small house located in a small clearing. The area of land was covered with vivid green foliage and vibrant, colorful flowers. It was quaint, much different than what Isabel was used to. Ivy entwined itself around lattice on the porch area, its companions being small, neat gardens full of plants of all kinds, sizes, and colors.

Tending to the plants was a fair skinned woman with long auburn hair that obscured her face. Isabel nearly abhorred at the thought of coming into contact with the messy dirt or caring for the green plants that sprouted from it, but the woman seemed not to mind. Hearing the horse's hooves come closer, the lady looked up. She had striking green eyes that nearly glowed in the pure sunlight, and a nicely shaped face that was framed by her soft-looking hair. She hardly compared to Isabel's typical glory, though.

"Hello, may I help you?" the redhead asked. Her voice was mellifluous and clear, and was easily heard in the sweet morning air. Isabel had to keep from glowering.

"Yes, I heard that a beautiful and kind woman lived somewhere in this area. Would you know of her, per chance?" Merely implying a few compliments made Isabel feel sick. _She_ was the one supposed to be receiving praise, not this lowly peasant.

The other woman blushed a color similar to that of a pink hydrangea, making her already bright green eyes stand out even more, and complimenting her shining red hair. Isabel nearly wrinkled her nose at the sight of the embarrassed female. "I am the only one who lives in this part of the forest. I suppose that I am the one whom you heard of, though I hardly think of myself as beautiful. Thank you for the compliment," she said and gave a small curtsy.

_She is rather humble,_ Isabel thought, looking at the rosy cheeked girl before her. _It is rather irritating._

As if just remembering something, the female jumped. "Oh my, where are my manners? Would you like to come in? I apologize; my home is rather simple. But you are more than welcome to spend as long as you would like."

The royal in disguise nodded (despite and dismounted from her horse, following the other girl into her cottage.

* * *

True to the maiden's words, her home was quite basic. Isabel's face betrayed her disgust momentarily, then resumed its former neutrality while she mentally scolded herself for possibly causing wrinkles. The redhead gasped. "I forgot to tell you my name! Forgive me, please. My name is Hope."

_Hope? What an odd name, _Isabel thought. "That is a beautiful name. Mine is… Amara."

"Oh, what an exquisite name you have! It is fitting for such a lovely person as yourself."

"Why, thank you, Hope. You are too kind," Isabel said, her voice sounding sweet and sincere. Internally, she was thinking about how the peasant's cheerful attitude was a bit annoying, and how she gave out compliments freely. But even so, she was a bit shocked that Hope had called her beautiful. Her current form was far from that; it seemed almost ugly. She had lost the attractiveness that she had previously had. How could the redhead think she was lovely?

"…But as nice as you name is, it seems too formal for such a kind-hearted person. I think I'll call you," Hope paused, pondering on what Amara's nickname should be. "Amy! I'll call you Amy."

Isabel almost grimaced at the silly name. Nicknames in general were useless, she believed. If people had been meant to be called by such titles, they would have been named that in the first place. Should she ever have children, Isabel would make sure that her offspring would be proper enough to not join in on the ridiculous nicknaming business. "Yes, that is a wonderful pet name! You are a very clever woman for coming up with such a thing."

Hope blushed at the compliment. "Why, thank you. You are very generous with your praise."

The royal almost rolled her eyes. This girl was too much. So humble and informal; it was as if she were a small child. It was rather adorable. Naturally, it disgusted Isabel.

The cheerful woman continued to chat to her like she was an old and familiar friend. When the sun began to set, Isabel stated that she had to return home. The sage-eyed woman looked wholeheartedly crestfallen.

"Oh. If you must go, then be on your way. Shall you be visiting again tomorrow?" she said, disappointment lacing her voice. Her eyes shone sadly as she cast a glance at the other female

Isabel considered it for a moment. She didn't want to return, but it would be wise to do so. After all, you were supposed to keep your enemies close, as the saying went. The closer she became to the woman, the easier it would be to dispose of her, and get back her title as the fairest of them all.

"Yes."

And so the fair maiden waved goodbye as who she thought was her new friend rode off in the direction of the castle town and palace.

* * *

Isabel was luckily able to slip into her residence unnoticed. She was relieved, but at the same time, aggravated. This was the palace, for heaven's sake! It should have better security! At this point, uninvited, filthy peasants could slip in and assassinate her! This was absolutely unacceptable.

As soon as the matter regarding Hope was taken care of, she would address the issue.

Quietly, Isabel slipped into her bedroom and then to her powder room. She was rather happy to find that she had reverted to her usual, splendid form. The corners of her mouth quirked upward into a pleased and slightly smug smile. As Isabel gazed into her mirror, it changed slightly so that her reflection was smirking. The nearly glowing amber orbs that matched her own were alight with amusement and untold knowledge.

"Hello, Isabel. How did your meeting with Hope go?" The mirror asked, its voice smooth and almost musical.

The woman eyed the mirror warily, disliking the sweet tone her reflection was using. "It was… odd. I have, unfortunately, committed to returning tomorrow."

"Ah, very well. We shall disguise you at about mid-morning." The honey tones in voice of the looking glass were more noticeable now than ever. In the strange way that magic worked, the mirror would be bound to its owner until they died. Due to this, the person trapped behind glass had been able to see what had went on while Isabel was away, though the queen had not known.

"Then I will miss the noon meal," Isabel pointed out, disdain filling her voice.

"Your hostess will undoubtedly supply you with food," said the looking glass, its smirk widening at the fairly well concealed horror displayed on the queen's face.

"It will be-"

"Plebeian food? Yes, it shall. But you must keep your goal in mind, your highness," the mirror reminded her.

Isabel frowned slightly and left the powder room.


End file.
